Obliviate -the lost week (Harmione)

Losing hope feels like melting snow on your heart. Grey. Embracing. Dad and mom, gone; the sword, missing; only one horcrux under your grasp after months of hunting them: you just missed the chance to kill other, while breaking Harry's wand on the run, and with it, the frail leverage it provided. At dawn or twilight, freezing under the covers despite the glass stored blue flames, you are reminded by the colors of the sky of the friend you thought could love you as a girl. You, as Harry, probably will never again meet your red-headed favorites before dying.
So when Harry kisses you in a rush, surprising you with the warmth and thrill and breath of life the gesture conveys, you wonder how farthest you can go, and if your friendship would stand it.